


Line of Best Fit

by orphan_account



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4885252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically a Jarfoyle breakup fic because I want more stuff about this ship after dineshgilfoyle renewed my interest yesterday</p>
            </blockquote>





	Line of Best Fit

“I think that it would be for the better if we both moved there. I love, but you can get your masters somewhere else. I think this could be a great opportunity,” Donald said. He tried to stay calm, but could feel the temptation to kiss the anger off of Bertram’s face.

“Not all of us have had our a capella years at Sarah Laurence. Boston would be a much better place to live than that sheep infested area. Why would I transfer from MIT anyway?” Bertram was done. He and Donald had a plan, finish his master’s degree, which that stupid nerd had suggested for him to get it the first place, and then move to California. He wasn’t prepared for such a divergence from the plan.

“I know it’s not like we planned, but this guy named Mr. Belson gave me a job offer, with exceptional room for growth. I could become a junior VP in just five years,” Jared was frustrated. He wasn’t used to this feeling, and felt guilty about it, but at the same time, he had thought that Bertram wasn’t so… what was the word… needy?

“But that wouldn’t work. I mean, whatever happened to us against the world?” Bertram regretted saying it the moment the words had come roaring out of his mouth, but he didn’t want for Donald to go. Bertram had decided long ago that Donald was almost the ideal spouse, he tolerated his flannel and had encouraged for Bertram to occasionally eat fuji apples instead of solely cereal. Once a week, they’d even play backgammon together. Fuck, he took Jared’s buttered popcorn jelly beans just because he knew how much Jared hated them.

“Bertram. Please. Let’s just talk about it in the morning,” Donald said. He was beginning to realize how unhealthy their relationship was, how even though they were engaged, their relationship would come tumbling down eventually, the moment one of them was away for too long. He supposed that that was the nature of things, to crumble, to dismantle, to break, to fall apart. It was never to build or to create, to do so would be swimming up the stream, to go against the natural order of things.

“Fine, please don’t go without thinking things through first,” Bertram said, hugging Jared to his chest. Bertram had always wished that sleep would come sooner, that he could drift off effortlessly like people were supposed to. He watched the worry melt from Donald’s face as he slipped into slumber.

Bertram turned and looked up at the ceiling. He sat for an hour, watching and waiting. He grabbed a notebook from underneath the bed and sat. Suddenly it began.

For twenty minutes, Donald went off on a tirade of German. Bertram furiously wrote translations of everything being said, he had a half a notebook filled. It was one of those things that he would probably never admit to Donald until the notebook was finished. He wasn’t that much of a stalker type.

He had been attempting to figure out for about a year if the dreams had a specific plot, or if they were a one time thing. About forty percent of the time, they revolved around a condor named Teddy that played a flute, which Bertram secretly found to be extraordinarily cute. He found everything about Donald to be adorable, especially the days when it was slightly warmer, and the snow finally began to melt. Sometimes, he would walk Bertram to class, and when he saw a bird he recognized, he would squeal. No bird, not even a pigeon, was weird or common enough to be ignored by Donald.

_____________

 

“Good morning,” Bertram said, rubbing his eyes while walking into the kitchen. He hoped that Donald would be more rational in the morning, and realize how great things could be in Boston.

“Good morning Bertram, I think it would be for the better if we broke it off,” Donald said, attempting to play it off nonchalantly. He hoped that Bertram would realize what their relationship had become, and just move on. He unfortunately had little experience with this. 

“What do you mean? We’re engaged! We’re gonna get married! We can’t just… break up…” Bertram’s sentence faded away, as he processed what was happening. The relationship that he’d had for over two years was just going away like that. Over some stupid Mr. Belson guy offering Donald a large promotion. What kind of corporate bullshit was this? He wasn't that type to go ranting "wake up sheeple," but it felt personal once a sheep wanted to take Donald away.

“Well, I was thinking that our relationship is too unhealthy to continue. I’ve decided to move to California so that you can continue your studying here undistracted. Perhaps we could talk to each other about this at a future date,” Donald said. This was not going the way he had rehearsed it a thousand times in his mind, and a thousand more during his morning shower. He decided that he should just end it before things go too ugly. Before there was an actual divorce to file.

“Why can’t you stay, and we’ll just be like… uh… really close friends?” Bertram pleaded. He realized how much he really loved Donald. He desired to make it work, to keep his dorky, bird obsessed, German sleep-speaking boyfriend with him for the rest of his life. He didn’t want anything to change.

“Because that wouldn’t solve the problem. We’re too dependent on each other, and we could just end up getting stuck in a loop.” Donald didn’t want to hurt Bertram, but he knew it was for the best. He’d pack his suitcase, and get on a flight to Palo Alto. He’d take up Mr. Belson’s offer, and hope for the best. He couldn’t keep doing this, he’d never be able to leave if he did.

Donald walked Bertram to his class one final time, ignoring the birds around him to focus on Bertram, yet also ignoring the instinct to take it all back, to keep things the same. 

They finally reached the door of the building, where they would say their last goodbye. Donald tried to take a mental snapshot of Bertram, a keepsake for when times got rough. An infinite number of hellos and good mornings and I love yous had rapidly decreased into this single goodbye. Perhaps it was for the better, but neither could tell.


End file.
